A Question of Choice?

Mommy,

I don’t understand

That man hurt me

Mum, why is my belly growing?

Mummy, there’s something inside of me!

But moooom, I can’t be a mother

I’m your baby

I’m still a child

What do you mean, Mumma, that they don’t care?

Why do you say it’s not my life?

How was it never my choice?

He chose to do this Mama

But I didn’t ask for this?

Oh, I did?

Alright, I guess I won’t go out of the house wearing a skirt again.

.

.

Hi baby, shush, this world isn’t meant for you but I’ll do my best to keep you safe. My mother couldn’t, and it broke her. Her own shadow haunts her. But you, my love, shall be safe. I’ll dress you like a boy.

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And Tonight We Grieve

It has happened yet again.

Lives scarred. Lives lost. Lives unceremoniously snatched away from unsuspecting innocents.

A hefty price paid to feed the chasm of human depravity. The price of life.

What little value it holds.

We burn candles. We mourn. We thank our stars in gratitude for not being at the wrong place at the wrong time.

We try to empathize. But, no human experience is ever enough to translate the pain felt by our brethren today. The pain of families left behind. What they wouldn’t give for another minute with their loved ones.

A massacre. A deranged soul. A gun. A law. A Lobby.

It’s time to take stock and weigh. An agenda against a life. A gun against a bullet peircing through the flesh.

Because tonight, we grieve again.